


sadly, the future is no longer what it was

by itisjosh



Series: onlypain [55]
Category: The 100 (TV), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Alternate Universe - The 100 (TV), Angst, Best Friends, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hopeful Ending, Hurt No Comfort, Isolation, Loneliness, Memories, Outer Space, Past Character Death, Praimfaya | Radiation Wave, References to Depression, The Ark Station, TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29670099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itisjosh/pseuds/itisjosh
Summary: The Ark is lonely.This was always going to happen, earth was always going to burn and destroy itself, but he thought that they had more time. Tommy thought he had more time to fix everything, but he didn't, and now he has to deal with the aftermath.Alone.(or, mcyt/the 100 crossover. set after praimfaya)
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: onlypain [55]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2027711
Comments: 10
Kudos: 72





	sadly, the future is no longer what it was

The Ark is lonely. The Ark is empty, and there's no one else wandering its cold halls other than himself, and he hates that more than anything else. Everything is quiet, it's quiet all the time, and Tommy wishes so desperately that it wasn't that way. Every single day is harder than the last, and he doesn't know how much longer he can keep doing this without losing his mind. He looks out of the Ark's many, many windows, staring out into space, staring out into the great beyond. He's seen this sight a thousand times - five hundred before his life on earth and five hundred after. Tommy used to think that this place was huge and filled with life, full of hope and full of the people he loved the most, but as soon as his feet touched soil, he knew he was wrong. Earth was so much better than Tommy thinks he could have ever imagined it, and now he watches as his planet, the place he started to call home, dies in front of him with every passing day. There was nothing they could do to stop it - this was always going to happen, he thinks. This was always going to happen, earth was always going to burn and destroy itself, but he thought that they had more time. Tommy thought he had more time to fix everything, but he didn't, and now he has to deal with the aftermath. Alone.

Tommy breathes out, leaning forwards a little. He rests his head against the window, feeling the cool glass touch his forehead. He feels his chest ache, he feels his heart hurt the more that he focuses on it instead of anything else. Tommy wishes that he had someone to focus on, someone else to rely on, someone who he could talk to. He's got no one up here, he's entirely alone. Wilbur didn't make it up here, Tubbo didn't make it. Techno died long before he even had the chance to make it to the Ark, and Phil refused to ever set foot up here ever again, so Tommy is alone. He has no one else, and he's got no way of communicating with them. He has absolutely no way of talking to anyone other than himself, and it's driving him insane. He looks over his shoulder, staring at the radio that lays on his desk. There are hundreds of papers on that desk, too, all scribbled on and doodled on, covered in drawings and in letters and in words. Tommy has been writing to Wilbur and Tubbo and Techno and Phil, and even though those letters will never reach them, he does it anyways. He thinks that maybe, one day, when everything ends up turning out okay, he'll be able to make it back down to earth and give those letters to at least three people. He'll leave Techno's letters at his grave, if it's even there. If Tommy remembers right, if he understood everything correctly, Techno's grave might have been burnt off the face of the earth. Praimfaya is apparently supposed to have burnt the earth entirely, but he doesn't know. 

Tommy doesn't know because he's not down there, he's not with his friends and his family, and it's awful. Tommy is supposed to be there with them, he shouldn't be up here, he shouldn't be alone. He should be in that bunker with Tubbo, he should have been in that stupid testing place where he got that rocket off of the ground with Wilbur. Well, he thinks, _he_ wasn't the one who got the rocket that took him up to the Ark off of the ground, no. No, that was Tubbo. Tubbo was always the better engineer between the two of them, he was always so much better at putting things together and taking them apart, just for fun. Tommy was better at destroying things, and it seems like he still is. Tommy wonders if Wilbur is still alive, shaking his head a few seconds after that thought. He doesn't need to think like that, he doesn't need to question it or not. Wilbur has to be alive, Wilbur _has_ to be. Wilbur is a Nightblood, that's what everyone told him. While Tommy and Tubbo were away trying to save their people and their futures and their lives, Wilbur was off in the Capitol, signing treaties and making deals and spending his time with Techno, the Commander, learning about everything that he could. Wilbur was always so much more interested in Grounder culture than Tommy ever could have imagined himself being, but he never judged. Wilbur learning all he could about Grounders and their language and their societies is what saved all of their asses, so many times over. 

Wilbur was technically the first leader that they all had, and Tommy is convinced he would have followed his older brother to the end of time if he had just asked. Wilbur shouldn't have even been on the dropship, Tommy thinks to himself as he stares out into space, watching as the earth continues to stay still. It always will stay still, he doesn't know why he thought he could watch it slowly turn as the days pass, as the hours and years go by. Wilbur illegally forced his way onto that dropship, and Tommy is unbelievably thankful that he did. Wilbur made life so much easier, he made everything so much better, and all he did was _exist_. Tommy doesn't think that he would have survived for more than an hour on earth if Wilbur hadn't come with them, if he hadn't threatened the Chancellor and bodied his way onto the dropship. To be fair, Tommy thinks, _he_ did a lot, too. He helped Wilbur set up camp, he helped hunt, he helped sign treaties and make agreements with the Grounders and the Coalition. Tommy fought for his life far too many times, and this is what he's gotten in return. While Tommy knows that he should be grateful that he even managed to survive, that he even managed to get up here to live, he isn't. He's not grateful at all, and in fact, he thinks he would much rather be dead than be up here alone. 

The Ark is cold and desolate and it's filled with ghosts and memories that Tommy wishes he didn't have to deal with on his own. He's the only one up here, but he swears to god he can still hear Wilbur's stupid laugh and they way he clapped his hands after each manic cackle. He swears he can hear Tubbo mocking him for not knowing the difference between two wrenches or screwdrivers. He swears he can hear Phil gently whispering to him from above, sounding panicked and scared as Tommy held his breath under the floorboards. Tommy thinks that his life might have been fucked from the start, all things considered. For one, his entire goddamn existence was illegal, and he was _arrested_ for being born, which he thought, and still does think, was bullshit. Phil managed to escape before he was killed for having more than one kid, disappearing to the earth without even saying goodbye. At first, Tommy was bitter and upset at that, but he thanks the god he doesn't believe in that Phil managed to escape before they killed him, before they floated him. Tommy looks away from the window, looking away from space and from the earth and from his home. He turns away, shoving his hands in his pockets as he starts to walk, listening to his footsteps echo as he does. He hates the fact that the only sounds he hears are his own. He wishes that he could hear and see Wilbur laugh, he wishes he could hear and see Tubbo giggling and rambling on about a story he learnt long ago. 

Tommy wishes a lot of things, and most of those things involve having his family and his friends back. Life on the Ark, life up here, would be so much easier if he didn't have to deal with it alone. Tommy has never been good at being alone, he's never been good at being entirely on his own for long periods of time, and he's supposed to stay up here for at least seven years. Seven years of being alone. Seven years of hearing no one other than himself. Seven years of not having Wilbur or Phil or Tubbo by his side. _Seven fucking years of being entirely alone_. Tommy doesn't think that he'll last that long, if he's being entirely honest with himself. And even if he does manage to make it out of this alive, he knows that he isn't going to be the same. He'll have lost a part of him, an important part, and he doesn't think he'll ever be able to get that part back. The more time he spends up here alone, the more he wants to just send the Ark spiralling back down to earth. At least if he dies, he'll die at home. Earth is home, Tommy thinks - the Ark is not. The Ark might have been home when he was fourteen, but as soon as his feet hit the ground, as soon as he breathed in fresh air, the Ark stopped being home. Earth was his home as soon as his feet touched the soil and oxygen filled his lungs. As soon as he saw those trees looming over the dropship, as soon as he saw the other ninety-nine delinquents get off the dropship with him, he knew. He knew that earth would forever be his home. 

He sighs, staring at Wilbur's guitar that sits against his desk. Tommy was going to have Wilbur teach him how to play when they came up here together, but now he's alone, and Wilbur isn't here to teach him where to even put his fingers or how the hell he's supposed to hold the guitar the right way. Tommy sighs again, tapping his foot against the ground, hating the way it echoes, hating the way that he can't stop even more. Tubbo was going to start up an algae farm here, so that they could at least eat healthy, so they could at least have a continuous supply of food. Tommy barely managed to figure out how to set that farm up so he wouldn't starve to death, and even now it still breaks and malfunctions, and he has to spend hours trying to fix it, trying to make it work properly. Wilbur and Tubbo were supposed to be here with him. Wilbur was so close to managing to get on the ship with him, but then something broke outside, something that Tommy needed to get the rocket up into the air. Wilbur was supposed to come back to the rocket before it launched, before the wave hit, before Praimfaya actually broke loose, but he didn't. Wilbur didn't come back. Tommy has to assume that he's alive, he _has_ to. Tommy isn't going to think otherwise, he refuses to. He can't let himself believe that Wilbur is dead, he has to hang onto that hope that Wilbur might be alive. Wilbur is a Nightblood, he's got the blood of the Commanders in his veins - he has to be alive. He _has_ to be. 

Tommy looks over his shoulder, staring down the hallway that seems to go on forever. If he takes a right, that's where his room is. If he takes a left, that's where Wilbur's room would have been. If he keeps going, he'll find himself in the deeper part of the Ark, and from there, if he takes another right, that's where Tubbo's room should have been. Further past all of those are the farms, and right here is the main area, the main part where he stays. He doesn't like being in his room very much. Tommy tries to avoid being in there as much as he can, opting to stay out here and keep an eye on his radio and on earth, opting to make sure that nothing changes. Tommy looks over at his radio, chewing on the inside of his cheek, feeling his throat seize up. He feels like he's going to cry, but he pushes that feeling down as far as he can, burying it until he's gone completely. Tommy doesn't have time to cry, he doesn't have the energy to cry. Crying takes so much out of him that it's so much easier if he just doesn't. Tommy wanders over to his radio, picking it up. The weight is familiar in his hands, not heavy, not all that light, either. He runs his thumb over the top of it, wishing that he could hear the voices that are supposed to come through the other side. He presses down on the button that lets him talk, that lets his voice be heard, but he says nothing. 

What's the point in saying anything if no one is going to listen? Tommy tries his best to keep himself quiet, he prefers to not talk. Talking just sends him spiralling, especially because he always listens for Wilbur's voice, he always tries to hear if Tubbo is actually there or not. Their radios probably just burnt in the wave of radiation, Tommy thinks to himself. It's a false hope, he knows that deep down in his chest, but if he pretends enough, maybe he'll actually start to believe that. It's something that Wilbur told him ages ago - if you lie to yourself enough about anything, then you'll eventually start to believe it. Tommy hopes that's true, he hopes that it's true. If he can lie to himself enough about Wilbur and Tubbo being alive, then he'll believe it one day. He has to believe it, Tommy thinks to himself, he just _has_ to. If they're not alive, then what's the point of _him_ being alive? He's only up here to survive for Tubbo and Wilbur, he's only here because they told him to live, and so Tommy did. Though this doesn't feel like living, this feels like the opposite. It feels like dying, it feels like he's losing his mind. He feels like he's dying nearly every single day of his life, from the moment he wakes up to the moment he falls asleep. He doesn't sleep as much as he used to. It's harder for him to fall asleep when his mind is constantly conflicted, filled with memories and ghosts of his old life, of what was supposed to be his current life. Sleeping is difficult, not only because his mind is always active, but also because of the nightmares. Tommy remembers watching Tubbo get speared in the chest, he remembers watching him nearly die. 

Tommy remembers A.L.I.E and everything that happened involving her, he remembers the brainwashing and manipulation, he remembers Mount Weather. God, does he remember Mount Weather. Tommy thinks that might have been the worst thing to ever happen in his life, right up until he left Wilbur and Tubbo behind. To be entirely fair, he makes himself remember, Tubbo said he might not be able to make it to the rocket, and to not get his hopes up. Tubbo said that the people he was being put in charge of, the people in the bunker, were opting for him to stay, for him to rule them. Tommy doesn't know why the hell Tubbo couldn't have just let the actual Clan rulers do their jobs and take their positions as leaders, but he also sort of understands. Tubbo is too good of a person for life, let alone the earth. Tubbo is the best person in the world, Tommy thinks. He's got a heart of gold and a strong mind, he's not all that persuasive, but when he talks and he's being serious, people listen to him. He's not as good at making speeches as Wilbur is, but he tries his goddamn best, and his goddamn best is more than enough. 

Tommy looks back over at the window, back over at earth. He would trade so, so much to be down there with his best friend and older brother and father. Tommy would kill to be there, he would do so much to live there once again. He'd live his entire life cooped up in that tiny little bunker if it meant that he got to be there with his best friend and his family. Tommy isn't entirely sure if Phil managed to make it into that bunker or not, he doesn't really know for sure. Phil just left him with a smile and a mock-salute, a few words of comfort that didn't really mean much, and then he was gone, wandering off just like he always did. When Phil landed on the ground, he immediately fell in love with earth, just like Tommy did. Tommy never really saw him that much, his dad was always off exploring different places and coming back with an entire group of Grounders at his heels, beaming at them all and explaining just how he managed to get some of the most ruthless people alive to turn sides and fight with them against their mutual enemies. Phil was always like that, he was always so good at convincing people to turn sides and do what he wanted. It helped that he made promises he could keep, it helped that he was blunt and serious and didn't fuck around when it came to important things. 

If Phil is alive, which Tommy thinks that he has to be, he's definitely alone. He always preferred surviving alone, he always preferred to travel alone rather than with other people. Tommy is convinced that his dad is alive, there's no way that he isn't. Phil has always managed to survive everything that the world had thrown at him and then some, and he's always done it with minimal effort. He's walked into hell and he came back with only a few scrapes and bruises, maybe a few burns. Phil is one of the strongest people that Tommy thinks he knows, and there's no way in hell that Phil is dead. Phil would never let death take him, no way. Wilbur and Tubbo wouldn't, either. All three of them have to be alive, there's no way that they aren't. They're all strong and smart and so good at living that death has never, ever been something they'd consider. They would never let themselves die, and Tommy can't, either. He has to stay alive, he's got to stay strong. If not for himself, for his family. It's really the only reason he thinks that he's still managing to keep going. Tommy doesn't think that he would have ever gotten this far if he didn't keep his family in mind. 

He heaves a sigh, tilting his head up as he stares at the ceiling above him. Everything here is so grey and confining and cold, it's full of memories and of ghosts, not a single stripe of colour anywhere in sight. Tommy misses seeing green and blue, he misses seeing the colour yellow, he misses red and orange and purple. He misses _colours_ , he wishes that he could see something other than grey all the time. Tommy wishes that he could go outside and breathe air that wasn't recycled, but he can't. He can't do any of those things because he's in the Ark, he's in the Ark and he's alone. He's nowhere near the earth, not right now. He's not even close. Tommy taps his foot against the ground over and over again, the echoing nearly driving him insane, but the silence is even worse. Tommy looks over to his desk again, biting down so hard on his lip he swears he tastes blood. Tommy tightens his grip on his radio, a soft noise of pain escaping his lips. Everything here is so lonely, yet it's all so familiar. Wilbur's guitar is propped up by his desk. Tubbo's wooden bee is sat on his desk. Phil's radio is next to Tubbo's bee. Techno's sword is hung above the desk. Everything here is so perfect and familiar and homely, but it's so fucking lonely at the same time. 

Tommy isn't going to get to hear Techno ever laugh again. Techno is never going to talk to him again, he'll never be able to train Tommy. Tommy isn't going to get train with Techno anymore. He's going to have to wait _seven fucking years_ to hear Wilbur's stupid laugh, he'll have to wait for so fucking long to listen to Wilbur play the guitar again. Tommy is going to have to wait seven years to listen to Tubbo ramble on about something, he's going to have to wait years to hear Tubbo talk about earth and its plants and animals that he learnt about up here. He's going to have to wait seven years to be able to travel and explore with Phil. Tommy is going to have to wait seven years of his life to listen to his dad call him "mate" again. Tommy has to wait forever and a day to see the people that he loves again. It fucking sucks. All of this fucking sucks, and he decided that a couple months into being up here. All alone, all fucking alone. Tommy isn't even sure how much time has passed by now, he used to know off the top of his head. It's not really worth remembering the days only to be disappointed when he isn't even a year into being up here. 

He wanders back over to the window, taking his radio with him. He holds it up to his mouth, staring out of the window, looking down at earth. Earth is still beautiful, even when it's not supposed to be. No matter what happens, Tommy knows that Praimfaya isn't going to be enough to kill his friends. His friends, his family, they're far too strong for some stupid radiation wave to knock them down. Tubbo will survive in his bunker. Wilbur is a Nightblood, he'll be okay. There's a good chance that Phil managed to find somewhere to stay, and even if he didn't, Tommy's heard the rumours of his dad being a Nightblood, just like Techno, just like Wilbur. Earth is dead and destroyed, but that isn't enough to kill his family. No, Tommy thinks, Praimfaya isn't enough to kill them. They'll survive. It's what they do, he thinks. It's what they've always done, and it's what they'll always continue to do. No matter what happens, they'll keep on living. It's what they're good at. 

Tommy smiles a little, feeling his chest hurt, feeling his throat seize up a little. His heart aches in his chest, broken and barely taped back together. He clicks on his radio, biting down on his lower lip for a few seconds. He opens his mouth, but no words come out. Tommy shakes his head after a few moments, breathing out. "Hey, Will. Hey, Tubbo. It's Tommy," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. It's been months since he's talked. His voice is raspy, his throat hurts, it's difficult to make himself actually say the words he wants to say, but Tommy forces himself to do it. "You guys doing good?" He asks, resting his other hand against the window, closing his eyes. He smiles a bit to himself, squeezing his eyes shut. "It's not half the year yet, but it's getting close. I'm hanging on. I hope you guys are, too," Tommy mumbles. "We're going to be okay. I believe in us, yeah? We'll be okay. Just give it another few years, and I'll be back down there. You'll all still be alive. Promise?" 

There's only static on the other side of the radio, and even then Tommy thinks he might be imaging that. There's silence, a quiet that makes his heart hurt, a quiet that makes his hears ring. Tommy nods, moving his thumb off of the button that lets him talk. He pauses for a second, moving his finger back over that button, if only for a moment. "I love you guys." Tommy whispers. He turns away from the window after, stalking towards the desk where he keeps everything, the desk where he keeps his memories and pieces of his family's interests. He sets the radio down on the desk once more, feeling hurt and tired, but a little less angry. Tommy wanders over to window once again, resting his arm against the glass. He sets his head under his arm, closing his eyes. Tommy breathes out, feeling his chest hurt. 

It's only seven more years. He can do this for another seven years, he has to. Tommy can do this, and he's only certain of that because of his family. So long as he keeps them in mind, Tommy knows that he can do anything. He's sure of it. Seven years isn't that long. He can make it. He has to. If not for himself, for his family. Why else would he be doing it? Tommy knows damn well he can make it for another seven years, he absolutely knows that. Tommy isn't going to die now, he can't, not after he's been up here for this long, just waiting. He's going to survive up here, he's going to make himself survive, he's going to live, and he's going to hate every single second of it, but he's going to do it anyways. Tommy isn't doing it for himself, he doesn't think he was ever doing it for himself, but he knows who he _is_ doing it for - Tubbo and Wilbur and Phil. Techno, too. 

Tommy is going to survive.

It's what he does best.

* * *

_And, somewhere down on earth, a man with curly brown hair and soft honey eyes looks up into the sky. He can't see the Ark Station, but he knows that it's there. He raises his radio up to his mouth, smiling softly as he stares up into the pale blue sky, dotted with white clouds. He can hear wings flap from above him, he can hear birds soar around him. It's been the better half of a year now, give or take a month or two. He wishes that he could let Tommy know that, he wishes that he could contact him and tell him that he's able to come back down now. Earth is okay again, it healed so much faster than he ever thought that it would. He runs his finger over the button on his radio, his lips curving up into a soft smile. It's lonely down here, he thinks to himself. It has to be so much worse for Tommy. He wishes that he got to the rocket in time, but it's too late for that. "Hey, Tommy. It's Wilbur. Hang in there, big man."_

_"I love you."_


End file.
